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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019825">there will be flowers yet, my love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fensandmarshes/pseuds/fensandmarshes'>fensandmarshes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we'll do what we gotta do (what will come is what is due) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, BAMF Cara | CaptainPuffy, Cara | CaptainPuffy and Niki | Nihachu Own a Flower Shop, Deity Cara | CaptainPuffy, Deity Niki | Nihachu, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Niki | Nihachu Needs a Hug, Niki | Nihachu Redemption, Post-L'Manberg Doomsday (Dream SMP), Redemption, Villain Niki | Nihachu, also mentioned: dream tommy tubbo and jack but not enough to tag for them, i WILL make all these tags canonical through sheer force of will</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:29:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fensandmarshes/pseuds/fensandmarshes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Niki,” Puffy says, <i>wrong</i> crawling over her skin like the touch of infection, “what happened to you?”<br/>Niki is beautiful like this, in a way that makes Puffy nauseous. Darkness has claimed her eyes, and her hair is a darker, fiercer pink now, angry and unapologetic and bitter. Strapped to her back is a netherite axe. The air clings to her - Puffy cringes at it - and the world is clamouring, the strands of the universe drawn to Niki Nihachu and singing the way they only do for new gods.<br/>“Oh,” Puffy says. She is the general, the mother, the pirate captain; she is defenseless in the face of this. It is a new cruelty, to see what has happened to sweet Niki and know there is nothing she can do. “Oh, Niki.” There used to be flowers in her hair.</p>
</blockquote>Or: Niki, the newly reborn goddess of revenge; Puffy, the goddess of safety at sea and protection for children; the two of them learning how to be human together.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cara | CaptainPuffy/Niki | Nihachu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we'll do what we gotta do (what will come is what is due) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>there will be flowers yet, my love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>puffychu rights!!! this will probably make much more sense if you read the other fic in the series first, but if you don't want to, basically: niki turns into a revenge goddess because i said so :)</p><p>playing fast and loose with canon!! if something doesn't make sense, pretend it was deliberate, please.</p><p>this work is strictly dsmp!verse: all elements of my characterisation are taken from the characters, not the ccs!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Niki,” Puffy says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> crawling over her skin like the touch of infection, “what happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki is beautiful like this, in a way that makes Puffy nauseous. Darkness has claimed her eyes, and her hair is a darker, fiercer pink now, angry and unapologetic and bitter. Strapped to her back is a netherite axe. The air clings to her - Puffy cringes at it - and the world is clamouring, the strands of the universe drawn to Niki Nihachu and singing the way they only do for new gods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Puffy says. She is the general, the mother, the pirate captain; she is defenseless in the face of this. It is a new cruelty, to see what has happened to sweet Niki and know there is nothing she can do. “Oh, Niki.” There used to be flowers in her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki tilts her head; her eyes are dark, and they gather up all the light and hoard it away. Flame gathers around her shoulders, her fists, the tips of her hair. “Puffy,” she says gently. “Step aside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do this,” Puffy insists. She stands her ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I can,” Niki replies, softly like she’s sorry to have to say it. “And I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffy settles into her stance, strong and steadfast, the only way she knows how to be. She’s made to be the stone in a river, meant to build a home atop the seas, meant to look the waters in the eye and say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, you move.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Niki raises a hand, and fire roars around them both until it is all there is left to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Puffy has been half a goddess since she first learned how to swim. A river ran by the house where she grew up, in a quiet loving cottage with siblings enough to go around and a mother whose face she cannot remember. It’s all blurry, now. The clearest part of it is the river, and the way Puffy would wade into it in cold days, and think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to follow it. I want to see where I can go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to see who she could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she was a teenager, she gathered her things and left, followed the river to the sea and kept following it beyond her homeland’s shores. She was a stowaway, then a recruit, then a captain. Her memory of home faded. This was all she needed. Her crew loved her like a mother and a sister, and she was steadier at sea than she ever had been on land, and her blood began to run gold as people began to learn her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was Captain Puffy, mother of the seas. Where she came from, she did not quite remember. “It was nice,” she would say, when she was asked. “I used to swim in the river.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time someone prayed to her, she reacted before she had time to understand what it meant. There was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain, please, I’m afraid,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and a frightened child, and then she was standing over them with sword drawn and protective fury and the sea in storm around her. First she disposed of the threats - they’d been hurting this boy, terrifying them - and secondly she knelt, and wiped the child’s tears, and murmured “Shhh, duckling, it’s okay. You can come home with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only once she was back on her own ship, sitting in her cabin, did she remember to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the actual fuck just happened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was okay, though. The crew liked the boy, and the boy grew up, and he spread Puffy’s name as he left to choose greener pastures over bluer seas. Ships kept shrines to her. She saw the way her blood ran gold without fail, and she knew the truth, and she was - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was not afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she ran away. Just for a little. She bound her hair in a bandanna, and wore glasses to hide the way the sea glowed in her eyes, and took a ship to shore to see who she could be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Niki, Puffy did not have to be a goddess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki was gentle, and Niki was perceptive, and Puffy knew Niki could always tell there was more to her than met the eye. But Niki let Puffy keep her secrets. They followed other people and Puffy didn’t pay too much attention to the politics of it, just let Niki lead her excitedly into a new country as she insisted her friends were very brave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time they went on a date, Puffy’s heart felt too big for her chest, and her voice kept doing embarrassing things, and her palms were sweaty with her nervousness as she offered Niki flowers. It was lovely, and human, and heartbreaking. Niki’s hair was two-toned back then, blonde and black, and she used to let Puffy braid it as she mused about the future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might dye it pink,” she said once, contemplative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffy hummed gently. She was sitting cross-legged in the meadow not far from the city Niki’s friends were building, and Niki had her head in Puffy’s lap, and Puffy was gently braiding dandelions into the blonde streaks at the front. “Pink?” she prompted, fingers gentle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Niki murmured, contemplative, eyes bright. “What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any colour would suit you,” Puffy said, and then felt her face colour as she realised what she had said. (Goddesses did not blush. Red sprang to Puffy’s cheeks, and she knew it was blood rather than ichor.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki laughed. “Flirt,” she said affectionately, and reached up to brush a finger across the bridge of Puffy’s cheekbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went to bakeries, and museums, and dates by the river. They built a flower shop. Broke bread together. Niki would always forgive the wrongs done to her, even as they irked Puffy - this man who called himself a president, these taxes that were poorly disguised theft, and over and over again Niki would choose to be better than him. Puffy loved Niki more for it. She could never do it, herself. The sea was only kind to those who deserved it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then everything fell apart. Puffy left for the Badlands, and Niki fought for L’Manberg, and their flower garden wilted, a relic of a simpler age.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Puffy has always had a soft spot for children. The kid who prayed to her, once, her little duckling who she lost somewhere along the way (he is a god of his own, now, she remembers bitterly, and aches to know that she has lost him); the boys who were made into soldiers by their own country. It is part of her creed. She has not seen Niki in a long time, and her blood is gold again, on the rare occasions it is drawn; she hears there are children who need her, and so she goes to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She visits her duckling in his prison. He will not look her in the eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy is a little broken, though he hides it well; she remembers Niki saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>my friends are good people,</span>
  </em>
  <span> remembers making that mistake herself. L’Manberg has done this to its children. Puffy’s duckling has done this to this boy. Tubbo, similarly, jumps when he hears loud noises, and his voice wavers when he has to give orders, and Puffy thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit, fuck this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s taking these kids under her wing. Anyone who wants to hurt them is going through her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Puffy stands guard outside Snowchester, and she keeps vigil over the dirt house near L’Manberg, and she knows she is doing her duty. She is the captain, the mother, the pirate queen; she is the anchor for her crew, the stone in the river, a place to stay. Her blood is gold, and she is serving her calling. It has been a long time since she has been anything other than a goddess. A long time since she has seen Niki Nihachu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is told stories, half-truths, that she cannot believe. A test run, as though Tubbo is trying to reclaim the fireworks that shattered him to high heaven; a pied-piper story, luring Tommy into the danger zone. It couldn’t be Niki, though. Niki has always chosen mercy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, Puffy puts herself in between Niki Nihachu and the house in which Tommy sleeps (or, knowing him, hurtles around like a feral raccoon too traumatised for sleep). She plants her feet. She repeats, “You can’t do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire fades around them. Niki glances at her hand, as if wondering why her flame has failed her. As she blinks, slow and confused, her eyes seem to catch the light for the barest moment - a fractal glimmer of golden, reflecting the sparks hovering in the air - before the dark wins out once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffy exhales. She lowers her shield, and the barrier it inspired dissipates; she does not think Niki will try to burn her again. “I know,” she says gingerly, “you are angry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were a goddess, Puffy,” Niki murmurs. She has been distracted from her fury enough to sound taken aback. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffy’s heart, a thing of red blood, is leaden in her immortal chest. “I wasn’t,” she says. “Not around you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Puffy, I’m -” Niki begins, the darkness of her eyes wavering again for a moment, and Puffy’s breath catches. “I’m -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Niki,” Puffy says, and goes to her. She’s always been told she gives good hugs; if she can hold a barrier up around them, made of arms and love and willpower, maybe they can be human again. Together. She clutches Niki to the breastplate of her netherite armour. “Shhh,” she murmurs, “you’re safe, I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the fire flaring before Niki speaks; then she’s being pushed away, in a burst of force that is out of any mortal proportion to Niki’s slender form. “Don’t try to soothe me like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Niki snaps, spiteful and bitter, the poison out of place in her gentle voice and sounding horridly practiced. “Puffy, I have had </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough</span>
  </em>
  <span> with this. I’m sick of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sick,” Puffy agrees. She’s out of breath as she gets to her feet; Niki’s outburst has caught her in the windpipe. Still, she takes one step, then another; once her feet are steady, she crosses the path again, holds out her hand. “But revenge is not the same as reparation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to be silent,” Niki accuses. “Like all of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When have I ever shut up in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>life,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Puffy says, and catches, like a victory, the smile that Niki tries to hide. “Niki. You’re right to be angry. But he is a child; he can do better, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki seems to waver; it’s beautiful and it makes Puffy want to shatter. “Puffy,” Niki repeats. Their names are ritual at this point; it is like an act of prayer, to murmur them. A plea. An accusation. An omen. “Puffy, please, I - it’s eating away at me -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Revenge does that,” Puffy agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki’s breath catches. Fire flares around her wrists, like bracelets. “Puffy, move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She searches, desperately, for some last resort. “I’ll braid your hair again,” she offers. “We can pick flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hurt you,” Niki whispers, and she is the Niki who would never do harm in her youth, and she is Niki Nihachu who was a mother goddess’s first kiss, gentle and secret among the flowers, and she is the wronged who demand revenge. She places a hand on the hilt of her axe; swings it from her back. The arc it makes in the air glitters with flame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffy is the anchor of a ship tossed by a stormy sea, and she digs in her feet. She looks Niki in the eye. With all the force of her human heart, she says, “You will not hurt this one, not today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words echo with godly fervour. She whispers, cataclysmic, </span>
  <b>“I know you are more than this.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Niki pauses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” she murmurs. Her axe slips from her grasp. Her dark eyes shudder closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Puffy scoops Niki up with one hand under her legs and the other under her shoulders, like a knight carrying her princess. Except the princess has only just dropped her really very large axe, and the knight is considered royalty among seafaring folk. She has heard talk; she thinks she knows where there might be something that constitutes a shrine to Niki’s goddess self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Snowchester, Jack Manifold has a hidden chest, full of gunpowder and spite and the plans he made with Niki. It’s child’s play to break in. Puffy can’t say she gives a damn about Jack at this point, but for what it’s worth she props her sword under the door handle, so that he won’t interrupt; that way, neither of them will be forced to do anything they’ll regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lays Niki in front of the makeshift shrine, and kneels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki has always been solemn in her sleep; like this, unconscious, she is not diminished but instead stately. There is a presence to her. Puffy lays a hand, concerned, against her brow to check for fever; beneath her skin is the humming of godly power, not the mundane heat of a human who has overexerted herself. Puffy doesn’t know if that’s a good sign. She doesn’t have a lot to give, and understands how the world operates; she has been half a goddess since she first learned how to swim, and it is all she really has, besides, well … besides Niki.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond her titles, Puffy only has one name. Beside her time with the flower shop or her many years at sea, her memory is very blurry. Beyond the sea, only storm is waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Puffy trusts herself. She’ll come out of this, somehow - because she knows what she has to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Niki,” she whispers. “You taught me how to be human; do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffy remembers - remembers Niki’s two-toned hair, and the lightness of her laugh, and the strength that no one ever saw. She remembers how close she was to giving up her golden blood altogether; she would have done it, for Niki. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>will.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I know you’re scared of being silenced again,” she says, and feels irritation bubble under her skin; there is a long history of people abusing Niki’s kindness. “I know it feels good to make decisions for once. I know you think this is the only way people will ever listen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki stirs. Puffy’s heart jumps into her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you can be more,” she promises. It’s an oath, and an offering. “We could learn to be people, together. Teach me to forget, and I’ll teach you to forgive.” (She remembers the first child she saved, her duckling. She wishes she did not have to. It’s like a knife, twisting into her gut, drawing mortal blood.) “Niki,” she murmurs. The name is a plea; an act of forgiveness; it is prophecy and prayer. “Let Tommy be. Better yet, we can show him how to be better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki is glowing, now; Puffy would be alarmed if she hadn’t been a goddess most of her life. Spontaneous glowing has always been part of the package. Light glimmers under Niki’s skin, golden and pink like the last dying embers of a sunset; she is giving something up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Niki,” Puffy says, one more time, and it’s an answer to a question, a hand braiding a flower into two-toned hair. It’s amnesty, and emancipation. Then, with her heart quickening despite herself - like first-crush nerves - she leans down and presses her lips to Niki’s. Just barely. A fleeting promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light flares around the two of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Revenge stays her hand and chooses mercy. Niki Nihachu blinks open her eyes, pale clouded blue, and says “Puffy, you’re bleeding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” Puffy says blankly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki shifts in Puffy’s arms, raises a hand; brushes a finger over the corner of Puffy’s eye. It comes away red. “Puffy,” she repeats, quiet, like a prayer or a secret. There is no ichor between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My love,” Puffy whispers. Her heart is heavy and strong within her chest. “There will be flowers yet.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since this is probably going to be a relatively niche fic, i would really appreciate anyone who had the energy to comment 🥺🥺 no pressure, of course, but feel free!! also i am always down to chat on tumblr or twitter: @fensandmarshes</p></blockquote></div></div>
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